The Sorcerer's Handbook

”Stimulants, excitants, euphoriants, spirit-shifting draughts, tonics for genius... since long ago, alchemists have hunted for a way to reconcile themselves with this garbage reality, one that offers absolutely no user experience.

”Yet in most cases, even when sorcerers endure in silence, reality only presses harder. The ’miracle’ drugs they develop either have impossibly high thresholds, usable only by the brewer, or carry toxicity so severe that even a medical sorcerer cannot mend the shattered mind left in its wake.”

”So, does there exist an alchemical potion that is non-toxic, mass-producible, and beneficial to all?”

Annan spread her hands wide. ”As it happens, there is. A special pheromone extracted from Mermaid Weed serves as a perfectly safe source of euphoria. It is non-toxic and creates no physiological addiction; no matter the dosage, there are no side effects. Consequently, various drugs derived from Mermaid Weed spread rapidly across the Gospel Kingdom. Take the Catnip cigarette in your hand, Mr. Harvey.”

Iger frowned. ”How could such a convenient thing exist? No such miraculous plant exists in the Blood Moon Kingdom. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale.”

The Purple Moth offered a thin smile. ”Of course it doesn’t exist there. This is a miracle crop grown under the direct guidance of the Book of Gospel, a species native and unique to this kingdom.”

The three fell silent. The Book of Gospel?

On second thought, it made perfect sense. As a tome capable of answering any question, how could it not be harnessed for research? In the realm of experimental science, its guidance would more than halve the labor. Before every trial, one could consult the Book to eliminate risk. When a bottleneck appeared, one simply asked for the next step. When an unknown substance was discovered, one asked for its function.

Compared to the traditional sorcery factions, basic science was the true beneficiary of the Book of Gospel. For over a thousand years, the nation’s fundamental sciences had likely never stagnated for a single day. But this realization brought a chilling question to the surface.

Iger’s brow furrowed deeper. ”Shouldn’t the Book have forbidden the production of euphoria drugs?”

Annan replied calmly, ”It isn’t as dire as you imagine. In fact, the highest grade of euphoriant an ordinary citizen can buy is that Catnip cigarette in Harvey’s hand. Even that is laced with additives designed to increase the smoker’s aversion over time. Even the hardiest beastman could smoke, at most, one pack a day, a level far below the threshold required to build a tolerance.”

”Most euphoria-inducing agents are sold exclusively to corporations. Rosemary, for instance, is dispersed through central air systems to effectively boost the productivity of an entire workforce. Then there is Fourteen Spice, engineered for the food industry to heighten the diner’s pleasure while eating...”

”Nothing exists with only harm and no benefit. Besides, euphoriants are the holy grail that alchemists pursue; how could sorcerers ever truly abandon them? As long as usage is controlled and moderate, they benefit society rather than harm it. And...”

Ashe added, ”You also have the Book of Gospel. Under its regulation, the harmful effects of euphoria drugs can be reduced to nearly zero.”

Annan went on, ”The same applies to euphoriants, and to the Beauty Mist as well. Once processed, the Beauty Mist can nourish an entire city. Naturally, the sorcerers also considered whether the city might be overfed. Through the guidance of the Book of Gospel and their own exploration, the sorcerers of Vanmura discovered a perfect path: the Family Reincarnation Dream System.”

The Purple Moth looked at Iger. ”Mr. Perskin, as a Mind Class sorcerer, you should know that certain Miracles can directly harvest a target’s positive emotions, correct?”

Iger responded, ”Extracting positive emotions while amplifying negative ones is a common assassination method for Mind Class sorcerers. If the target is already facing a major setback, it can easily push them toward suicide.”

Annan nodded slightly. ”Thank you for the explanation. In the world of sorcery, positive emotions are treated as a resource. In fact, without such a resource, the mind would quickly collapse. But when there is too much of it, the self is drowned. The current situation in Vanmura is exactly that. Everyone possesses an excess of emotional resources. The solution, then, becomes obvious.”

Iger looked puzzled. ”To collect... positive emotions? But leaving aside the logistics of collection, extracting emotions requires entering the soul. You can’t possibly sneak into everyone’s mind like I do. The only way would be for all citizens to willingly expose their souls, like leaving their doors wide open at night for any passerby to see inside. That carries far more risk than mere nakedness.”

Leaning against the wall, Annan spoke leisurely. ”Strangers cannot do that, of course. But what if they are family?

”A mother with her son, a daughter with her grandson, a sister with her nephew, a brother with his niece... Bound by blood, with the family acting as a fortress, everyone willingly merges into the collective. They offer up their happiness and lower their thresholds. Bloodline identity is a fascinating concept; when it grows strong enough, it can suppress the individual’s will to the extreme.

”This began as nothing more than a fanciful idea. But after centuries of development and the contributions of countless sorcerers, they wove together the joyful emotions of generations into layer upon layer of dreams. Eventually, they formed an indescribable miracle of bloodline.

”When family members close their eyes, they can sink into this dream at any time. It’s a fantastical world woven from countless happy emotions. If one prefers solitude, the dream carves out a private world. If one wishes to confide in someone, willing listeners from the family will appear. If one seeks answers, wise elders wait beneath the trees. And if one longs for romance, the very next encounter might just spark a fated love.

”Every action you take within the dream consumes your positive emotions. Once those emotions are exhausted, you will naturally drift away and return to reality.

”Through this process of spending emotions, you will gradually develop a blind faith in the merchant. You will come to believe that your happiness stems from your family, and that your joy is the product of love. All your beautiful memories will be stamped with the mark of family and blood. You will abandon the individual self and entrust your spirit to the collective.”

Annan’s eyes glinted. ”The chronic illness caused by the Beauty Mist will vanish, but only because you have acquired a far more terrifying terminal condition: family love.”

Ash spoke up suddenly, ”Wait! This reincarnation dream sounds exactly like—”

Annan smiled. ”Very similar to the Virtual World, isn’t it? But I’m not finished. Within the Mind Class discipline, things are categorized into thought, will, and emotion, in order of volume of information stored from smallest to largest.

”A thought is merely a fragment of memory. Will is a collection of thoughts focused in a strong direction. And emotion? Emotion is the byproduct created when will collide with memory.

”Even though these positive emotions are of the lowest grade, they are catalyzed by the Beauty Mist and contain a vast amount of information. When a dream is woven from such emotions and people actively immerse themselves in it, what do you think happens?”

Harvey shook his head, looking revolted. ”Fragments of past memories are absorbed and digested by people in the present... Disgusting.”

Annan nodded. ”Yes. In the dream, if you are fortunate enough, or perhaps unfortunate enough, you may resonate with other memory fragments, absorbing the knowledge and emotions held within. As for digesting it... It is hard to say who is truly consuming whom.

”Someone like Quinna, a purebred political animal, is not a product of reality alone. I suspect she inherited the filthiest essence of more than a dozen past Senheiser family heads. That is why everything about her, from her hair to her nails, reeks of that stale, rotten scent of a moldy elf.”

The Beauty Mist, the Family Reincarnation Dream system...

Ashe and the others felt as though they had been struck. Their minds were so saturated with information that they could barely process it all. This was an outrageous setting, one worthy of being the centerpiece of an entirely new arc. Yet Vanmura, a mere side stage, was already this grotesque. Wasn’t that a bit excessive?

The Beauty Mist was one thing, but the solution they had engineered was the Family Reincarnation Dream. It sounded like inventing a machine that turned filth into fried noodles just to make the world edible.

After all, the Reincarnation Dream was far more significant than the mist itself. It was effectively a small, dedicated Virtual World for the inheritance of knowledge. If it continued to expand and absorbed enough emotional ”nutrients,” it might one day evolve into an exclusive family sanctuary within the Virtual World.

Pankey interrupted, ”It is not quite as ideal as Young Lady describes. Instances of knowledge reincarnation do occur, but it could go a year without happening even once. Most simply treat the dream as a place for leisure and entertainment, a way to vent excess happiness.”

The young butler explained, ”The true strength of the Family Reincarnation Dream lies not in reincarnation, but in the family itself. All members who enter the same dream, even if they are total strangers, will gradually find their blood ties and subconscious impressions deepening. Eventually, they form an almost instinctive sense of kinship.

”You must have found it strange that everyone on the street was staring at us earlier. That is because, aside from us, they all belong to the ’same family.’ When they look at one another, they feel a sense of closeness and familiarity. Even without knowing a name, they recognize each other as kin, people they can be open with.”

Ashe and the others caught on immediately. Walking down that street had been like barging into a private family banquet and behaving disgracefully. No wonder they had drawn such scrutiny.

Iger took the lead in summarizing. ”In other words, the Beauty Mist grants the entire city endless pleasure. As a result, work efficiency, citizen satisfaction, and public security all rank at the very top of the Gospel Kingdom.”

”To prevent that pleasure from eroding people’s minds, the sorcerers engineered the Family Reincarnation Dream, allowing citizens to channel their excess happiness into the collective dreamscape. After centuries of development, the dream and the sorcerer families have completely subsumed the city of Vanmura.

”Anyone who lives here is essentially forced to integrate into this system. Outsiders stand out immediately; they are recognized by the locals at a glance.

”The Beauty Mist breeds happy citizens, nurtures massive families, and effectively isolates Vanmura from the rest of the Gospel Kingdom.”

Annan nodded. ”A perfect summary. You’re spot on.”

The fraudster fell silent for a moment. ”So why, exactly, have we come here to tour a den that devours people whole without so much as spitting out the bones?”

Ashe raised his hand. ”Wait. Aren’t we going to discuss why the reincarnation dream resembles the Virtual World so closely? Is it possible that the Virtual World is—”

”Long ago, some sorcerers proposed that the Virtual World is a grand dream woven by all living beings. It’s a well-known hypothesis, though no one has ever proven it,” Iger waved his hand dismissively. ”The adults are talking. Children should stay quiet.”

Lys reached out and clamped her hand over Ashe’s mouth; Ashe responded by lightly rapping her on the head.

Pankey said, ”For outsiders, Vanmura is indeed quite dangerous, but Young Lady is no outsider.”

Everyone turned to Annan. Her lips twitched as if she had just swallowed a cockroach. After a heavy silence, she reluctantly admitted, ”I lived in Vanmura for a time when I was young.”